Threshold of the Future
by BenRG
Summary: A short AU story showing how I would have concluded the HP books. H/Hr, R/Lu, N/G
1. Day of Destiny

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* * *

**

Threshold of the Future

By BenRG

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer

Harry Potter and the characters, locations and situations of the Harry Potter universe are the property of J. K. Rowling. This is a non-profit fan work for free distribution through the world-wide web.

**Author's Notes**

This is a sort of amalgam of some various widowed and orphaned bits of several HP stories I have written (but never finished) over the years. I was walking home today when I realised that these particular three bits fit together quite well.

This is essentially an alternate ending and epilogue for the story. There are elements of canon in this but it will also go significantly AU in places.

My thanks to Jo for allowing fans (and critics) to play in the sandbox she built for our own amusement.

Censor: T – Mentions of premarital sexual relationships (and their consequences) and also description of violence

**Chapter 1 – The Day of Destiny**

"You may have destroyed my Horacruxes, boy but you lack the will to destroy me! You are too _weak_ to kill." Harry glared at the inhuman thing that was all that remained of Tom Riddle… No; Ginny was right. Tom Riddle Jnr. died when he had the basilisk kill Myrtle and used the act to create the first Horacrux. This truly _was_ the Dark Lord Voldemort – The Speaker of Death.

Harry consciously filtered out the Heir of Slytherin's taunts; he was only biding his time after all. So far, he had been able to block everything Voldemort had thrown his way but had not tried to press his advantage. In any case, as Dumbledore had warned, Harry was no where near the Dark Lord's equal in terms of magical knowledge and could not to hope to beat him. However, he was _more_ than able to hold him to a _stalemate_. Snape's reports had indicated that Voldemort was warded against almost every possible kind of attack; even if Harry had been confident of his ability to successfully cast the Killing Curse, it was not certain that even that would affect his enemy. Instead, Harry planned on turning the madman's undoubted power against himself. Now, everything depended on that weird hypothetical Light Arts spell that Hermione had found in a long-forgotten academic text.

"Well, _Tommy_, if you are so strong, then why don't you finish this?" Harry flourished his holly and phoenix feather wand. "Just to make it easier…" Harry made a show of holstering his wand, the brother of that bonded to Voldemort's and, therefore, a certain way of disrupting any attack, into the belt of his basilisk hide fighting armour. Harry folded his arms and made a show of being impatient. His wand wasn't really of much use anyway. The 'brother wand' effect meant that it was as useless against Voldemort as that inhuman thing's yew and phoenix feather wand was against him.

Voldemort scowled at the 17-year-old young wizard thoughtfully. He had not survived in the Dark Wizard game as long as he had by taking the bait when it was offered so explicitly. Instead, he fired a herbology charm that caused vines to grow around Harry, trapping his arms and legs. He then followed up with a detector charm that revealed no hidden traps or magical items. His Legimancy probe detected nothing unusual. "So be it, boy!" He pointed his wand at Harry. "Now I shall be _supreme_! AVADA KADAVRA!"

Harry was already moving. The young man had worked his father's wand out of its recessed holster in the dragon-hide bracer on his left forearm. _Diffendo_ he cast silently; the cutting spell sliced the vines off of his body as if they were made of wet paper. Then he pointed his father's wand at the man who murdered him sixteen and a half years ago and cast with all of his will and might: "_Vitaeus Luxos_!"

The poison green beam of the Killing Curse shot towards Harry and met a sudden flaring blue-white bubble that was suddenly surrounding The Boy Who Lived. The beam struck the shield and the unstoppable curse, the 'un-blockable curse'… was _blocked_. Harry held onto his father's wand with both hands; sweat broke out all over his body as he kept up the shield by force of will.

* * *

"_The Light of Life is only a theory Harry," Hermione explained. "It is postulated that the Killing Curse works by cancelling out its victim's life energies. However, if you were to actively energise your life force with your magic and project it in the path of the attack, then the Killing Curse would tangled up in the projected life energy, its energy dampened down by being caught up with its opposite."_

"_So it would be dissipated? That's great, 'Mione!" Harry gave his super-smart best friend a hug that made her blush brightly._

"_No, Harry, not dissipated, only trapped. It would continue to try to burn through to its target and, as the shield is formed by an combination of the caster's will and magical core, eventually it would fail and the curse would get through."_

_Harry looked into his best friend's worried amber-coloured eyes for a moment before he smiled in a way that showed he was definitely channelling his 'Inner Slytherin', to use Ron's way of describing it. "Well then, we will just have to make sure that it doesn't come to that…"_

* * *

Harry held on tightly to his father's wand with both hands and tried to keep his mind completely focussed. On the other side of the shield, Voldemort was doing nothing to stop him from doing so. Seeing what he had always supposed to be the epitome of Dark Magic blocked had stunned him to silence.

Harry focussed his will on his shield. He had practised this (although not with the Killing Curse involved) several times in the Room of Requirement and had generally got it to work. However, that was under controlled conditions. Right now, having fought his way through over a dozen Death Eaters and innumerable Dark Creatures and then having to have duelled one of the most accomplished Dark Wizards in history for over a quarter of an hour, Harry wasn't exactly at peak condition. However, as Hermione had repeatedly reminded him, the shield was an extension of Harry himself and was his to command.

_So, instead of a true sphere, there would be an extension, like a spike, on the shield facing towards Voldemort; a 'rampart' of energy would appear on the shield around its circumference and then contracting towards the spike, pushing the energy of the curse towards it… _

The green energy of the Killing Curse had been rotating endlessly around Harry's shield bubble, trying to get through to its target. Now, however, it was spinning around the geometric discontinuity on the shield, unable to cross the raised 'rampart' becoming more and more focussed as it was constricted closer and closer to the apex of the spike. Then, at the moment it reached the apex, Harry collapsed the spike back into the body of the shield and the poison green beam of energy shot directly towards its astonished caster.

Harry remembered Remus's lessons on the Unforgivable Curses. The Killing Curse worked on intent – the desire to kill, the hatred one feels for the victim and the pleasure that the caster would experience upon the victim's death. He also remembered the lessons that Professor Dumbledore had given him on Voldemort's personality and nature:

"_Despite everything, Harry, despite all the efforts that Tom has made to avoid death and despite his immensely narcissistic ego, there is truly only one person that he hates to that degree. There is only one person whose continued existence so revolts him and who he wishes with all his heart to be dead. There is only one death that would grant him that level of pleasure."_ And it was so: truly, Voldemort hated himself with the same passion that he loved himself. It was a paradox but so was so much of magic.

The killing curse impacted in the centre of Voldemort's chest and the curse did its work, destroying the one being who Voldemort hated above all others: the mudblood child of a worthless Muggle and the insane squib daughter of the tramp who, by some joke, was the last heir of Slytherin. The power that Voldemort had put behind the curse burned through all its caster's many layers of wards and shields and then shredded and cancelled out the tattered rag that was the last 1/128th of Voldemort's soul. Thus, the most powerful and feared Dark Lord of the modern era fell to his own suborned weapon, his reptilian face suddenly filled with a peace and rest that he had never known in life.

Harry lowered his father's wand, allowing his Life Shield to collapse back inward and drew in a deep breath, suddenly feeling the entire last seven years all in one moment. Then he realised that the corpse of Voldemort was glowing.

The body that the last fragment of the Dark Lord's soul had been inhabiting for three years now was no natural body. It was little better than a homunculus, an artificial product of a dark necromantic ritual that was entirely shaped and sustained by its occupier's dark magic. Without a guiding soul to direct it, that magical power now flashed outwards to rejoin the universal ether in a tremendous outpouring of raw magic that disintegrated the lifeless body it had occupied. The flash lit up the darkened grounds of Hogwarts for miles in every direction and every window in the castle and nearby Hogsmeade was blown inwards. The release was so great that distant Muggle machines in London briefly reported a low-yield nuclear explosion in Scotland.

* * *

"Harry! Oh, Harry! _Please_!" Harry was awoken by the sobbing voice. He blinked up at the brown blur above him. After a few moments, the blur resolved itself into the dirt- and tears-smeared face of his best friend, Hermione Granger.

"'Mione…" he murmured and thanked the Goddess that he knew how to cast a _Protego_ force shield charm wandlessly.

"Oh Harry! You're okay!" Hermione hugged her best friend with all of her strength.

Harry smiled as he felt his friend's body press against his own. He had kept it secret; after all, Hermione was already a target for just being his friend, let alone what would have happened if it was known that she was his fiancée! During the weeks hiding at Grimmauld Place, he had realised that he couldn't deny the feelings he had; he loved her – not just as a friend, not just as a sister but more. One of the reasons that his sixth year had been so bad was their estrangement over Snape's old potions book. He realised that, without her, he was only half a person, maybe less. Now he took the greatest joy from her soft body, so warm, curved and comforting, even through her body armour.

"W'rk'd 'Mione," he mumbled into her thick brown hair. "Y'did it."

Hermione leaned back and blushed at the reaction of her body to such sustained close contact with the young man who had been the focus of her affection for so long. "You did it, Harry. All I did was find the text. You were the one powerful and skilled enough to make it work."

Harry grinned up at Hermione and reached out to stroke his hand along the back of her cheek (noting with displeasure a cut running along her jaw-line). "Let's call it a team effort then."

Hermione laughed, a most beautiful sound, sat back on her heels (she had been kneeling at Harry's side) and offered him her hand to help him rise from where he was lying on one edge of a 200-foot wide crater.

Unseen to both the young ones, a figure in black robes wearing a bone white mask, had worked his way over the other lip of the crater. Somehow, he had been able to stay conscious despite the agony in his left arm when Voldemort died. Now, as he glared with a thin-lipped sneer at the Potter spawn and his mudblood slut, he realised that everything could now be gained. The boy was strong, but after that display against the late, unlamented Dark Lord, he would be too weak to pull any more tricks. He lined up his wand and began the incantation of the Killing Curse…

"Harry! Look out!" There was more than a voice, there was also a warning in Harry's mind. Operating more on instinct than anything else, Harry reached out and, wandlessly and wordlessly, summoned the Sword of Gryffindor from where it was still buried in Rockwood's chest and banished it towards the Death Eater casting the killing curse. The sword struck home like a harpoon, the blade punching right through the man's chest and knocking him from his feet, his wand jerked upward, sending the Killing Curse shooting uselessly up into the clouds before his wand tumbled from his grasp.

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood standing not five yards away. The fiery redhead and the spacey blonde looked like an odd sort of twin sisters in their identical armour (made, like that of all of Harry's friends, from the hide of the Beast of Slytherin). He smiled when he saw them, relieved that they were both alive and unharmed after the titanic battle that had raged all morning on the grounds of Hogwarts.

Ginny forced herself to relax and move her hand away from her chest where she had been trying to stop her heart from jumping from her chest in fear when she saw that Death Eater line up on Harry from behind. "All of the Death Eaters collapsed just before that explosion, Harry. Most of the Dark Creatures were killed. Where… where's Tom?"

"He's gone," Harry replied. "That explosion was his death knell."

"Turning the Killing Curse back on itself worked," Hermione added, sounding justly proud of the fruits her research had borne.

"Only one full of light could have made the light bright enough," Luna contributed. Hermione shot the blonde girl an odd look. The two had their disagreements but one area in which they were united was that there was something _special_ about Harry. The young woman (a True Seer, Trewlaney still insisted) turned to look at the crumpled form impaled on the Sword of Gryffindor, her unfocused blue eyes suddenly filled with sadness. "But the darkness proved too great for some we have known."

"That's someone we know?" Harry blurted, only now really _looking _at his fallen assailant.

"Let's see who!" Ginny said and, with her usual impetuous forthrightness, ran over to the fallen Death Eater. Without any ceremony, she pulled off the dark wizard's mask and then took a step back, her face filled with horror.

Harry, Hermione and Luna jogged over to her and joined her in looking down at the man. "No! Why…?" Hermione gasped.

"Snape!" Ginny said quietly. "So he was Tom's man after all!"

Luna shook her head. "A man can walk more than one path, if he chooses," she commented her usual airy voice turning grim and sorrowful. "However, he can only reach the end of one."

"He helped me remove the Horacrux from my scar!" Harry blurted. "I thought that I was wrong about him…!" The fallen ex-Potions Master groaned; somehow, he was still alive. "Traitorous _bastard_," Harry growled. "You told me that you hated Voldemort!"

Snape looked up at the four irritations and tried to hex them before he realised that his wand was no longer in his hand. "Of course… I hated… that… inhuman… beast," he hissed, each breath an agony around the sword embedded in his left lung. "I hated… you… even… more…!" Snape knew that he had little time left; knowing it was his last chance, he opened his Occulmency shields and let the dull-witted Gryffindor see his thoughts.

Harry saw something in the former teacher's mind and seized it. Yes, Snape hated Voldemort and wanted the Dark Lord dead, so he aided Harry to do what he could not. However, that was only the first step. He had realised that the Dark Lord's death would cause the Dark Mark to inflict agonising pain and even death on those whom it bound to Voldemort's life force and managed to brew a topical potion that would block the worst effects. Guessing that Harry would be vulnerable after the effort needed to defeat Voldemort, he kept close to their duel; He planned to finish off the boy he hated in the period of weakness that would inevitably follow such a confrontation. The wizard who slew the vanquisher of Voldemort would surely be the greatest Dark Lord of all time.

"You are a true Slytherin," Harry said at last. "Loyal to none but yourself, aiming only to increase your own power. It might have even worked but you forgot the same thing that Voldemort forgot: I am stronger than I would be on my own thanks to my friends."

Snape was shuddering in agony now, blood beginning to bubble up from between his lips as his lungs filled with his life-blood. "Lily… mine…! You… not… her…!"

Harry felt sick at what his Legimancy revealed. "That was why? For my mother? You wanted Voldemort to kill my father so you could have her for yourself?" Harry couldn't help but shudder as Snape's delirious, dying mind described all the humiliations and depravities that he had been planning to inflict on Lily; her delivery to him was his price for joining the Death Eater movement. "You'll be glad to know that he kept his word," Harry said, sarcasm filling his words. "He tried to get her out of the line of fire before trying to kill me."

Hermione and Ginny surrounded Harry from both sides, hugging him and trying to comfort him. "You were always thinking about yourself and planning for yourself," Luna explained to the shuddering ex-teacher. "Now, at the end, you should only blame yourself."

Snape's black eyes burned with hatred and he spat a gob of bloody sputum at Harry that dropped at the young man's feet. Harry sucked in his breath and realised that he did not have sufficient cruelty to let Snape to die slowly and painfully from his wounds. He reached out, seized the Sword of Gryffindor and yanked it out of Snape's chest. This tore open Snape's lung and severed his aorta. Blood fountained out from the wound; Snape convulsed once and was dead in less than five seconds. Before he died, his eyes conveyed one last message, one that did not surprise Harry in the least: _I __hate__ you, Potter_.

"Goodbye, _Snivellus_," Harry hissed. He wiped the bloodied blade on the black-haired man's robes and sheathed it in its over-the-back scabbard before turning his back on one of the most pathetic creatures that he had ever known.

Harry looked at his three friends and looked towards Hogwarts. The magical black clouds that Voldemort had conjured to allow his Dark Creatures to all fight in the daytime had almost all faded away and it was a sunny, warm day in March that promised a blazing hot summer to come. Only the fires, the piles of corpses and the curse burns on the mighty millennium-old walls remained to tell the tale of the defining magical battle of this age.

"Come on," Harry said, "let's get out of here."

Without a backward glance to the mortal remains of a bitter, frustrated and hate-filled man who had never once known true happiness, the four friends set off towards Hogwarts Castle and a future free from the dark.

_To be continued…_


	2. Generation Next

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* * *

**

Threshold of the Future

By BenRG

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer

Harry Potter and the characters, locations and situations of the Harry Potter universe are the property of J. K. Rowling. This is a non-profit fan work for free distribution through the world-wide web.

**Author's Notes**

This is a sort of amalgam of some various widowed and orphaned bits of several HP stories I have written (but never finished) over the years. I was walking home today when I realised that these particular three bits fit together quite well.

This is essentially an alternate ending and epilogue for the story. There are elements of canon in this but it will also go significantly AU in places.

My thanks to Jo for allowing fans (and critics) to play in the sandbox she built for our own amusement.

Censor: T – Mentions of premarital sexual relationships (and their consequences) and also description of violence

**Chapter 2 – Generation Next**

It had been six weeks since Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Luna had walked away from Snape's corpse. Unsurprisingly, Hermione had insisted that they attend at least _some_ lectures before the NEWTs were sat this coming June. Surprisingly, Ron agreed, although Harry strongly suspected that Luna Lovegood, whose strange viewpoints and quiet interest had caught Ron's imagination, was a great influence in that decision. So it was that he was back in his Gryffindor school uniform, with a Head Boy's badge, much to his surprise (the previous head boy, Theo Nott, had been left as a greasy smear by Grawp).

Harry was talking to Ginny, who was flirting with him outrageously. Then he heard, much to his relief, a familiar and much-loved voice.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Harry turned around and smiled at his fiancée. Hermione Granger, dressed in her school uniform rather than the basilisk- and dragon-hide body armour that had been practically their second skin for four terrifying months, suddenly looked about five years younger. With her hair loose instead of in a tight ponytail and with her face relaxed rather than taut with fear and anger, lit by the sun not by the glow of curses flashing by her face, Harry was reminded again why he had fallen in love with his deceptively plain-looking angel. Hermione quirked her left eyebrow at Harry's 'gone fishing' expression. "Harry?" she repeated gently.

"What? Oh! Sure!" Hermione laughed and shot Ginny a little wave as she led her boyfriend away from her kid sister in-all-but-blood.

Ginny couldn't help but grin at her big sister leading her boyfriend away. She had to hand it to Hermione; the older girl had her boy firmly in her grip now. Well, good luck to her! Ginny once wanted to be in her shoes (hell, she still fancied Harry really) but he was so _intense_! Ginny knew in her heart that trying to have a long-term relationship with him would burn her out and grind her down. The more methodical and patient Hermione really was able to understand Harry and get him to open up to her a lot better than Ginny ever could hope to do so.

No, as sad as it was to admit, Ginny knew that she would never be Madame Potter. She could still be his mistress, of course. Ginny giggled to herself; her mother would have a fit if she even tried! Mum was already calling her a scarlet woman for having four boyfriends in just three years!

* * *

Harry closed the door of the empty Charms classroom behind him. With her usual practised ease, Hermione magically locked, sealed and warded the door. Even if someone had their ear pressed right to it, they wouldn't hear their conversation now.

Harry could tell that something was worrying Hermione. Her brow was creased and she kept biting her bottom lip in that way she did whenever she was thinking. "'Mione, love, what is it? You know that you can tell me anything!"

"Oh Harry, just promise me that you will hear me out and not fly off the handle." Harry nodded mutely, taking Hermione by the arms and holding her close. Hermione laughed slightly and pushed him off before starting to pace. After a moment she turned back to her fiancé. "Harry, I'm late," she said.

"Late?" Harry asked in total confusion.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at his expression. After a moment she took pity on him and continued. "Magic is a funny thing," she said at last. "Everything is intent, not power or incantation. You have never been able to cast a Killing Curse because you simply cannot desire someone's death intensely enough." Harry nodded, he knew about this limit that prevented him from using the darkest of the Dark Arts. "Intent can even modify a familiar spell if you are not careful about what is in your mind and heart."

Hermione sighed and sat on the edge of the teacher's desk. Harry sat beside her, his expression worried and politely confused as he took Hermione's hands in his own and began to rub them reassuringly. Hermione couldn't help but grin at her fiancé… her _lover_. "Harry, that night before we led the DA back up the tunnel to retake Hogwarts, I was more scared than I've ever been before. I didn't know if I would see another dawn. I didn't know if you would live or die. I knew that you would face Voldemort and destroy him within days, but I still wasn't sure if you could do that and live. I was so scared that I would lose you Harry."

"You didn't lose me, love," Harry murmured, moving one hand to rub Hermione's back and draw her against his chest. "You never will; I'll always be there for you."

"I hope so," she said. "Harry, when we made love that night in the Shrieking Shack, it was the most intense experience that I've ever had." Harry couldn't help but grin proudly at that admission. In truth, she had made it an experience never to forget for him too. "I was so determined that night that I would have something to remember you by, that live or die a part of you would live on in me. Intent, Harry."

Hermione looked up into Harry's bright green eyes and saw realisation flare there. "I cast the Contraceptive Charm, but my intent was wrong for it to work properly."

Harry's jaw dropped open. "You… you mean…?"

Hermione nodded. "I missed my period just a week after Victory Day but I didn't think anything of it – a woman's cycle can be disrupted by enough stress – but now I'm over a week late this month and I haven't even had a trickle or a hint of a cramp. I'm normally regular like a clock." Hermione sucked in a breath. "I've been having what I think is morning sickness too."

Harry stood up and took a few steps away. The old fear of rejection flared up in Hermione's heart. Here is where he would deny paternity, deny her or demand that she abort her babies as a condition for a continued relationship. "Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Are you pregnant?"

Hermione bit her lip, strangely unable to read the tone of Harry's voice. "Yes…" she stuttered after a while. "I've confirmed it with the charm, the potion and the muggle urine test. The charm says that I'm carrying fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. If I'm right about the conception date, they should be born in late December." Hermione suddenly started to sob and covered her face with her hands. "I'm… I'm sorry! I know that this is my fault! I should have been more careful, more clear-headed! I know that you weren't planning to start a family until we had got ourselves settled and…"

Suddenly, Hermione was airborne, being twirled around in Harry's arms as he laughed joyfully. "Hermione this is _great_!" he yelled. Harry stopped his twirling and suddenly pulled her close in a crushing hug. "It is wonderful! _Thank you_!"

"You… you want them… want me?"

Harry stepped back with an astonished expression, not releasing his hold on Hermione. "Of course I do! I've always wanted a family of my own 'Mione! To father my own children…? _Your_ children? That's more luck than I've ever imagined that I'd have!" Harry's expression became suddenly nervous and unsure. "I… uh… assume that you want me around?"

Hermione scowled and managed to put her fists on her hips. "Well, honestly Harry Potter! Of course I do! You are the only man that I've ever wanted to have a family with!" Harry grinned again, lifted Hermione off of the ground and began to twirl her around again, laughing like a child.

"Careful now!" Hermione gasped, laughing in joy and confusion too. "I'm having enough trouble with morning sickness as it is!"

Suddenly, Harry set Hermione down, knelt before her and pressed a cheek to her belly. She could feel him reaching out with his magic, seeking the sparks of life within. "Don't get any ideas," she said quietly. "At six weeks, they are smaller than tadpoles and have only barely developed a nervous system worth mentioning."

"They are still my babies, and I love them."

Harry reached up and took Hermione's left hand where Lily Potter's engagement ring was on her ring finger. She remembered that Harry had fretted about giving her his mother's ring during their time on the run from Voldemort's forces, saying that he wanted her to have her own symbol but that it was too dangerous for him to go out to a jeweller to have one made. Hermione had told him that the honour of having his beloved mother's ring was enough for her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione giggled. "I think I agreed to that back on Halloween, silly."

"No, I mean now!" Hermione gasped and Harry continued. "Not right now of course but before you start to show. I don't want you or our children to be dogged with slander about them being illegitimate. These will be indisputably the heirs of the Houses of Potter and Black or my name will be mud!"

Hermione was suddenly looking at Harry through tear-filled eyes. "You mean that? You want this to happen?"

"Hermione, I've dreamt of marrying you since we flew together on Buckbeak back in third year." Harry's smile changed to a naughty grin. "Besides, I know that you want to use your maternal family's traditional wedding dress and we don't want to have to resize it for the twins, do we?"

Hermione tried to scowl at Harry's mischievous grin and then laughed. "Yeah! Let's do it!" she decided. "This time next month, I'll finally be 'Madame Potter' instead of 'Miss Granger'!"

Harry leant down to claim a kiss, his hands wandering in sensual patterns on Hermione's back. Suddenly, she was pulling at her fiancée's clothes… _No,_ she decided firmly in her head, _my _husband's_ clothes; That is decided with or without a ceremony. I am Hermione Potter, wife of Harry Potter and Lady of the Houses of Potter and Black now and forever!_

A sweaty but exhilarating hour later, Harry was lying with his head on Hermione's naked abdomen. "I didn't hurt any of you, did I?"

Hermione smiled. "You'll have to be more careful in the second and third trimesters," she murmured back. "Right now, that is what I needed my love." With a sigh she began to stroke her… her _husband's _unruly hair. "Now, who do we tell first?"

* * *

"_SQUEEEEEE_!" That noise, which was uttered simultaneously Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, attracted the attention of the entire student body and faculty gathered in the Great Hall.

"Oh Hermione! Congratulations!" Ginny leant over from where she was sitting by Neville Longbottom, her current beau, to hug Hermione hard.

"It is a sign of the blessing of the Goddess that you should have conceived so soon," Luna said dreamily.

Ginny leaned over and gently patted her best friend on the shoulder. "I think that only counts if you are already married, Lu," she said quietly.

"Really Ginerva, are the winkbats in your nasal cavity making you forgetful again?" Everyone blinked at Luna's slightly random comment. "You know that, in magical terms, as soon as Hermione accepted Harry's proposal and he took her to his bed, then she was his wife in any way that matters." Harry caught Hermione's eye and grinned as she went a flattering shade of pink.

Ginny had to take a moment to recover from Luna's reminder. Her mother _had_ explained this feature of wizarding pair bonding to her, but she hadn't really thought about its implications. Now, she looked at the ring that Neville had given her and thought of the uninhibited night of passion they enjoyed afterwards. She looked up at Neville, noting the tall, dark-haired boy's sudden blush.

Meanwhile, Harry had decided to take charge. "Ron, mate! I would be honoured if you would agree to stand by me on the big day."

"Harry, rampaging hippogriffs wouldn't keep me away!" The two young men exchanged a brotherly wrist-grasp.

"If you are to be Harry's best man, Ronald, you will have to buy new dress robes for the occasion," Luna decreed. "I will need new dress robes too." Ron groaned under his breath, not looking forward to the shopping expedition. Of course, he agreed out loud. Molly Weasley had not raised any stupid sons.

"Ginny, little sister," Hermione added, "I would be overjoyed to have you as my Maid of Honour."

Ginny smiled and took Hermione's hand in her own. "The joy would be mine, Lady Potter." There was, after all, only one girl with whom she could trust Harry's happiness. She was very grateful that Hermione wasn't insisting on calling her role 'Matron of Honour', as the title 'Maid' usually implied virginity on the part of the recipient. "Now, what arrangements did you have in mind for this big show next month?"

"Well…" Hermione suddenly stopped and looked at her fiancé and his friends. "Excuse us, boys," she said politely but with an undertone of menace.

"Yes, we don't want them bringing any Clumping Booby-wraiths to the discussion, do we?" Luna commented, nudging Ron in the ribs.

Ron grabbed a muffin off of the table and pulled Harry and Neville to their feet beside him. "Right, we'll be wandering around the Entrance Hall, ladies," he said. As Ron dragged Harry and Neville away, he gave them this explanation: "If girls want to discuss things without men around, you should let them have it, mate. They're all nutters, so we wouldn't understand it anyway!"

* * *

"I assume that this is not some kind of juvenile prank," Minerva McGonagall said quietly as she observed her two head students with a level glare.

"We are as serious as we can be, headmistress," Harry replied, keeping Hermione's hands firmly in his. "Hermione is carrying my children and I am determined that they be seen as legitimately mine." He smiled at the young woman that he already considered as being his wife. Hermione smiled back, privately thinking that they both looked like saps but enjoying every moment of this experience. "We are both in agreement about this," Harry concluded.

"Very well, as you are both of age, I can only offer you my blessing," McGonagall replied with a sigh. "I presume that you will want to use the Great Hall for the ceremony?" She smiled at her two best pupils, pleased to have confounded them. "What did you expect? You are far from the first to have brought this request to a head-teacher! Hogwarts is an ancient institution, my young friends. Up until comparatively recently, girls have been given in marriage as soon as their bodies are sufficiently mature to bear children, which can be as young as fourteen years. As recently as the mid-19th Century anything up to half of our female student body from 5th year upwards could be married, pregnant or nursing their children in between classes. We actually have blocks of quarters for married couples in every house dormitory and there is a crèche in the service level next to the kitchens; the House Elves love to care for babies." She smirked. "I understand that the record for a single couple was two sets of twins in three years back in the 16th Century."

On the wall, several of the portraits of former headteachers were nodding wisely. "It would be so lovely to have babies in the castle again," said one headmistress (from about the 12th century from her clothes) in a nostalgic tone of voice.

"I'm afraid that I'm not due until after I graduate," Hermione said, feeling the need to apologise for his unavoidable biological fact.

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "That won't matter, Miss Granger. I have noticed that a lot of pairs have gone public since Voldemort's downfall and the point that you made about intent in magical contraception is valid. I have a feeling that, next year, we will have to re-open the crèche facilities. Oh, it isn't your fault! This sort of thing tends to happen after wars. "

Hermione couldn't help but visualise a Great Hall in which dozens of girls were either pregnant or tending to their babies. Frankly, she wasn't sure if the idea was comical or vaguely alarming.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had yet to stop congratulating himself for his foresight, cunning and daring. Helping Potter and Weasley save the Mudblood and the Lunatic from the Death Eater-occupied Malfoy Manor had been an act of genius! It cemented his claims to be heading up a 'neutral' faction of purebloods who were not aligned with the Dark Lord. As a consequence, despite his father's disgrace and death in battle, the Malfoy title was secure and was awaiting only a formal accession ceremony to become his. Thanks to him, a large section of the pureblood nobility of his generation had survived the destruction of that inhuman _beast_'s band of worshippers. Of course, once the ridiculous fear of Potter that currently dominated his peers' thinking faded, it was to _him_ that they would turn to for leadership to protect their society and culture from muggle influences…

"Alright, I understand why Granger is doing this. That mudblood bitch is marrying into an old wizarding family, which gives her nobility and legitimacy that she could never achieve on her own so-called merits. What does _he_ get though? Beyond a warm body that will spread its legs for him, of course."

Draco jumped at the loud voice that interrupted his dreams of future glory and power and looked at Pansy Parkinson, _his _promised one-day-wife, in disgust. "Are you sure you were awake during your mother's lessons on pureblood traditions?" he asked with a sneer. "He is the Lord of two of the Great Houses; both the Potters and Blacks are Ancient and Noble Houses, you know. By producing an heir whilst still at school, he secures both lines against any challenges and avoids all the tedious offers of arranged marriages from every parent of a witch with more than a sneeze of pure blood in her veins. What is more, by choosing a mudblood, he ensures that both lines remain in his family's control as his wife-to-be doesn't have a noble family to claim control the heir of his secondary line when the time comes to divide up the estate." Draco had to smirk. "Of course, the big advantage is that, when she becomes his wife, he gets legal control over her. He can order her to shut up when she starts nagging and expect to be obeyed."

Pansy giggled in her irritating way, making her fiancé wince slightly.

What Draco didn't add was that, by marrying a witch without a previous pedigree, Potter had ensured that there was no possibility of inbreeding. The so-called "Purebloods' Curse" was responsible for reducing Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle to idiots and near-squibs. Pansy, whose maternal family were ethnic Roma from Eastern Europe, was the only pureblood girl of sufficient pedigree to be distantly-related enough to be suitable for him (a fact that Draco cursed to this day). Similarly, Longbottom, especially as he was no longer viewed as a near-squib, was really the only pureblood male sufficiently distantly related to be suitable for the Weaselette. Ginny Weasley had never stood a chance with Potter. Even though he was a half-blood, the Weasley and Potter lines were only divided by three generations and this was too close to avoid problems in the small blood pool of wizarding Britain, especially given the pureblood lines' tendency to sub-divide on the basis of 'Dark' or 'Light'. Her parents and Potter's guardians would have vetoed the match immediately. The Weasel had no choice but to go for that lunatic from Ravenclaw; she was the only pureblood girl even remotely distantly related enough for him (although Lovegood's claim on purity was suspect – some said that her mother's line had faerie or High Elf a few generations back).

"Never mind, Draco," Pansy's irritating attempt at sounding seductive broke into Draco's musing over the looming blood crisis facing pureblood Britain. "That horrid little half-blood and his mudblood slut will never be a match for _us_." Draco briefly considered owling his mother (as dowager lady of the House of Malfoy since his late, unlamented father's death) for permission to marry Pansy immediately so that he would have the right to make _her_ shut up on command. Even better, once they were married, he could impregnate her so that she would be sequestered at Malfoy Manor and out of his hair for a year or so. It was a _very_ tempting prospect.

He would have been surprised to learn that Pansy's plans were not dissimilar to his. Of course, an ambitious Slytherin woman, she had _no_ intention to spend the next few years either pregnant or nursing children. No, she intended to use the Malfoy name to its fullest value, which was still great, even after Lucius' disgrace from being in the late Dark Lord's service.

_To be continued…_


	3. Sixteen Years Later

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Threshold of the Future

By BenRG

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Disclaimer

Harry Potter and the characters, locations and situations of the Harry Potter universe are the property of J. K. Rowling. This is a non-profit fan work for free distribution through the world-wide web.

**Author's Notes**

This is a sort of amalgam of some various widowed and orphaned bits of several HP stories I have written (but never finished) over the years. I was walking home today when I realised that these particular three bits fit together quite well.

This is essentially an alternate ending and epilogue for the story. There are elements of canon in this but it will also go significantly AU in places.

My thanks to Jo for allowing fans (and critics) to play in the sandbox she built for our own amusement.

Censor: T – Mentions of premarital sexual relationships (and their consequences) and also description of violence

**Chapter 3 – Sixteen Years Later**

Autumn arrived suddenly that year, the hot, sticky tropical heat of August suddenly forgotten as cold air moved in as crisp and golden as an apple.

The family worked their way across Pentonville Road to the yellow brick and silvered glass buildings of King's Cross station. Hermione Potter couldn't help but marvel at how _clear_ the air in the city was since the outlawing of petroleum-fuelled engines in urban areas just a year previously.

Ahead, a cluster of three youngsters were pushing Network Rail luggage trolleys with probably the strangest burdens that anyone had ever seen (if it were not for the _Notice-Me-Not_ charms placed on them). As well as big sea chests, all three were surmounted with big bird cages containing owls, which were hooting in protest at the rocking ride provided by the uneven pavement surface.

Two of the three children pushing trolleys were of the same age and the third, who was a near mirror image of the woman behind her, was obviously younger. In between the two adults was a boy, younger still, with untidy brown hair and the most startling green eyes. "I want to go to Hogwarts too," the boy suddenly announced, scowling dangerously. "Why can't I go?"

Hermione Potter laughed and squeezed her youngest son's hand. "You will, Danny," she promised. "Four more years."

"Yeah," Daniel, remarked darkly. "But only after Jimmy and Rose have finished! Ugh! Imagine! Charley will probably be a prefect by my second year! She'll be able to boss me around!"

Harry Potter rolled his eyes at his youngest son's oft-declared dislike of his sister's tendency to try to 'manage' her siblings. "If a prefect 'bosses you around', Daniel Harry Potter, then you will take it with a smile."

"And then prank them when they're not looking. Right, Dad?" Daniel asked brightly, his green eyes sparking with mischief.

Harry took one look at his wife's thin-lipped disapproving stare (that he knew she had learnt from Professor McGonagall) and decided that either confirming or denying Danny's suggestion would be bad for his health. He hadn't _meant_ to teach his youngest son to become a prankster to rival the Marauders; the boy had just absorbed his stories about his grandparents' school years adventures like a sponge. That blasted Granger photographic memory and Potter eidetic memory causing trouble again.

"Daniel Potter," Hermione said, trying to stop herself from laughing at Harry's mortified expression. "I don't ever want to hear you being _caught_ carrying out a prank at school." She saw Harry's half grin and smiled back; She had been miserable at school because she focussed on books and learning without having fun. Fortunately, she met two wonderful boys who showed her a middle path.

"I _won't _be in Slytherin! _I won't! _Dad! Mum! Make them stop!" Harry and Hermione looked up. It was clear that their oldest children, Rose and James (Jimmy) had continued their only semi-serious teasing of the new Potter to start at Hogwarts this year, Charlotte (Charley).

"Honest, Dad," Jimmy announced loudly. "We weren't saying anything really. We were just saying that Charley _might_ end up in Slytherin! It does happen; the Sorting Hat makes the choice!"

"_It won't happen to me_!" Charley shouted at her older brother. Jimmy looked so much like his father and paternal grandfather (with the exception of the blue eyes that he had inherited from Dan Granger) that some people were whispering about the Potter family performing strange fertility rituals to ensure the inheritance of blood traits. Right now, those blue eyes were sparkling with good-natured mischief. Charlotte had inherited a great focus and sense of order from her mother. Like her mother she also tended to come apart in a big way if that focus and order was shattered. Jimmy made it his life's mission to make sure that his little sister 'let her hair down' (as he put it) as often as possible.

"Jimmy, let it go," Harry said.

"But dad…"

"_Let… it… go_." Harry's voice was quiet (he almost never raised his voice to his children) but James could see the light in his father's eyes that told him that he was pushing his luck.

"Yeah… Okay… Sorry dad." Harry raised an eyebrow at his oldest son and daughter. "Yeah… Sorry, Charley, no offence meant."

"You are such a jerk, James," Rose snapped, slapping her twin on his shoulder. The girl flipped her long, titian hair over her shoulder in the way that would have all the unattached boys in Hogwarts following her around with goofy smiles this year and tried to put some distance between them.

The family entered the low-ceilinged main waiting area of Kings Cross station. Deciding that his family did not need to sample any Muggle fast food, Harry snagged Rose and Jimmy and towed them off to the left towards the entrance to the platforms for the local trains. Ahead was a simple arched wall, and beyond that was Platform 9¾.

Since they started at Hogwarts, Rose and Jimmy had started going their separate ways, but they still did some 'twin' things. Right now, they grinned at each other and, acting as one, they accelerated to a run and pushed their trolleys through the dimensional gate guarding the entrance to Platform 9¾.

Charley looked at her parents uncertainly. "Go on, Charley!" Hermione called encouragingly. With a sudden, determined scowl (that Harry had seen occasionally in the mirror), the brown-haired girl pushed her trolley forwards and disappeared through the gate.

Harry and Hermione, with Danny in tow, ran through the gate and emerged onto the fold-space realm of Platform 9¾. The old-style wooden-framed slam-door carriages stretched away towards the head of the platform where the red steam locomotive sat in a cloud of steam, its brake pump occasionally uttering a panting noise. Parents were standing in knots along the platform's length, helping children get their trunks on the train or talking to their children at open windows. "Where have Rose and Jimmy gone?" Hermione was peering up and down the platform.

"They've probably gone to find Nathan and Aurora," Harry responded with an idle shrug. In many ways, Harry felt that it had been a mercy for Snape to die as he did at the climax of the war. Even setting aside the fact that Snape had been almost certainly facing time in Azkaban for his crimes, Harry doubted that the greasy-haired man would have been able to stand the arrival of the 'Golden Quartet' in Hogwarts with his sanity intact. "Come on, let's find them."

It was actually rather difficult to find _anyone_ in the clouds of steam from the locomotive. Without the faces, voices seemed unnaturally loud. Was that Percy lecturing someone about the importance of obeying the rules? Or was it Dean Thomas talking to someone about the best ways of hiding contraband in a dormitory room?

"Ah, there they are!" Hermione called. "Ron! Luna! Neville! Ginny!" The brunette woman waved wildly.

A cluster of figures emerged out of the steam. Ron Weasley, his wife, Luna, and their nine-year-old identical twin daughters Rhea and Selene. They were followed by Neville Longbottom, with his wife (the current England Quidditch captain) Ginny, and their children, Nathan (the oldest), Marie and Fred. The three families walked over to each other.

"Hi, heroes," Ron said with a broad grin, making Harry and Hermione roll their eyes in unison. Ron loved teasing his best friends about their near-legendary status.

"Hello, Ron," Harry said, reaching forward to grasp his best friend's hand.

"Harry. Park all right did you? I'm sure that I did."

"You nearly parked on that Swamp-quacker," Luna remarked with a slightly mischievous smile. "I still say that your _Confounded _that Muggle proficiency examiner to get your driving license."

"Why does my own wife have no faith in me?" Ron wailed dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. Luna laughed and hugged his arm affectionately. Ron leaned forward to the Potters and spoke to Harry in a faked whisper. "Actually I did nearly have to _Confound_ him! I kept forgetting to look in my wing mirrors. Why do they call them 'wing' mirrors when they don't let the dratted contraption fly anyway?"

Hermione was about to explain when Harry kicked her ankle lightly to remind her that Ron was only kidding. He was about to say something to Ron when he heard Jimmy and Rose calling. "Mum! Dad! We found Arthur and Aurora!" The two oldest Potter children rushed up, sans their luggage, which they had doubtless loaded onto the train, with Ron and Luna's two school-age children. 11-year-old Arthur (who looked like his father at the same age but with dark blond hair) and their 15-year-old daughter Aurora, who had beautiful strawberry-blonde hair and deep silver eyes that made everyone wonder if she, like her mother, would be a True Seer.

The 'Golden Quartet' of Nathan, Jimmy, Rose and Aurora immediately abandoned their parents to start gossiping excitedly about Quidditch, who would be sorted where and for what reasons this year and who might fancy who. It was as if they hadn't been together every other day for the summer at The Potter's Wheel, Longbottom Manor or The Snorkack (Luna's ancestral home and her wedding gift from her father).

Ron clapped Arthur on the shoulder (he, along with Charley and Marie were starting Hogwarts this year). "Well son, I guess this is it. Remember, if you aren't sorted into Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you… but no pressure." The 'Quartet' laughed but the 11-year-olds all looked solemn and worried.

"Ronald Bilus Weasley," Luna said quietly. "I will remind you that I was a Ravenclaw and proud of it. We are certainly not going to pressure our children to go into your family's favoured house if they are not suited for it." Ron grimaced. Luna was quite upset when Aurora was sorted into Gryffindor, although Harry felt that it was partly because the Sorting Hat had been unwilling to separate the 'Quartet' – that way lay chaos.

Ron's head suddenly cocked and he caught Harry's eye, nodding to a point behind him. Harry turned and saw Draco Malfoy standing there with his wife, Pansy, and a dark-haired boy who was otherwise Draco's spitting image. The Malfoys managed to restrain their urge to sneer at the Potter/Weasley/Longbottom group, although Pansy did imitate her mother-in-law's impression that there was an unpleasant smell around them.

"So," Neville remarked. "That is young Cephus Malfoy. I wonder if he has been able to avoid the brainwashing that turned Draco practically into a clone of old Lucius."

Certainly, the Malfoy family was not the force that they had once been. Almost as soon as the dust of the War had settled down, Narcissa Malfoy had started throwing money around in attempt to regain influence and avoid paying reparations for Lucius's crimes. Kingsley had not been greatly impressed; The Malfoys found themselves being fined almost all of their assets and Narcissa ultimately died, an impoverished and broken woman, just five years after the end of the war. By sheer hard work and determination, Draco had managed to rebuild a bit of his family's fortune and reputation (although Harry suspected that Pansy's contribution to this endeavour was far more than the 'moral support' for which Draco frequently publicly thanked her). However, when Draco had attempted to reform the old Pureblood Supremacist faction on the Wizegmont, he found that the new generation of Lords and Ladies were not as easily fooled as their ancestors were. He had been thwarted at every turn. Several very specific investigations into his family's finances and conduct had cowed him into being simply a bleating reactionary voice, largely impotent in the various councils.

"Well, the new pre-Hogwarts schools set up after the war would have made it a bit more difficult to 'program' him," Hermione murmured. "Additionally, I think that Pansy is more of an independent mind than Narcissa. Draco wouldn't dare do anything that she disapproved of."

"Arthur, you are to beat that boy on every test," Ron said quietly, making his son look up at him in confusion.

"You will offer him friendship, Arthur," Luna contradicted. Suddenly, the woman's eyes went blind white and her voice became resonant and distant. "_The Daughter of the Lion will be given command. Then the challenges of tomorrow threaten even the Bastion of the Four. And the divisions of yesterday must heal if the Daughter of the Lion and the Son of the Serpent are together to drive the Dark away. The Daughter of the Lion…_" Luna blinked, her eyes back to normal. "Oh dear, I must have been bitten by a Wrackspurt!"

The other five adults exchanged worried looks. Luna had not had a precognitive flash like that for some time. "I think I'll need to talk to Minerva about this," Harry murmured.

"And I'll be asking Bill to double-check the wards on Hogwarts," Ron agreed.

"Hey!" Jimmy suddenly called out from the huddle of the 'Quartet'. "You'll never guess what I saw! Teddy Lupin snogging Victorie! Our Teddy! _Snogging_! _Victorie Weasley_!" It was pretty obvious that the foursome was a bit disappointed at the lack of reaction to this breaking news. "Well, anyway, I asked him what he thought he was doing…"

Hermione was appalled. "You… interrupted him? James Sirius Potter, you really need to stop channelling your Uncle Ron like that!"

"Hey! I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Darling," Luna replied. "I love you fiercely, but you have _always _had the emotional range of a teaspoon. You are the one who walked in on Harry and Hermione last Victory Day party and started asking them where the key to the wine cellar was despite the fact they were rather… _busy_ at the time." Harry and Hermione went an interesting shade of red and Ginny's eyebrow shot up thoughtfully – she would have to get her sister-in-law to tell her that previously untold story.

Charley was thinking about her older siblings' news. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if Teddy were to marry Victorie?" she asked. Charley looked absently the way the others had come, her thoughts no doubt on the sixth-year Ravenclaw and his just-revealed fifth-year Slytherin girlfriend.

"Yeah," Aurora said with a grin. "Then he really _would_ be family!" She turned to her father. "Dad, he could start living with Grandma, Uncle Bill and Auntie Fleur!"

"As if he'd stop spending every evening and weekend with us," Hermione murmured with a slight smirk. She didn't really mind Harry's godson staying with the Potter family, of course. If anything, the polite and studious boy was something of a relief compared to her brilliant but hyperactive children.

Suddenly the whistle of the Hogwarts Express shrieked its 'five minutes' warning. "Okay, people, get on board," Ron announced, automatically taking charge.

"Arthur, be sure to give Aunt Lavender our love," Luna instructed her son.

The boy grimaced. "Mum! I can't go up to my divination teacher and give her _love_!"

Luna gave her son, so very like his father in so many ways, an odd look. "Arthur Xenophilius Weasley, you certainly know Lavender well enough not to feel self-conscious around her."

Arthur blushed. Like just about all the school-age boys of the Potter/Weasley/Longbottom group, at one time or another, he had a crush on the sensual blonde werewolf. "Yeah, but that's at home. This will be at school and she'll be my teacher! Besides, I'm a boy!"

Luna shook her head. The Nargles were clearly making her son dizzy again. "Just because you are at Hogwarts does not make her any less the woman who baby-sat you and your friends more times than I could count," she declared. "Show her respect by all means, but don't forget that she is your friend too." Luna then leant forwards and kissed her oldest son on the nose. "Now, on the train with you."

Harry and Ron had just finished levitating Charley and Marie's trunks onto the train. Harry turned and realised that Charley had grabbed her mother in a hug and wasn't about to let go any time soon.

Harry joined the group hug. "Charley, you'll be just fine."

Charley sniffled. "Dad… what if I _am_ sorted into Slytherin?" she asked in a broken voice. Harry suddenly realised that this really did matter to Charley. Who would have guessed that his quietest and sweetest daughter would be so determined to follow her family tradition of being in Gryffindor House?

"Charley, each of the houses has had members who were good and members who were bad. None of them are 'evil' or 'wrong'. If the Sorting Hat thinks that you are ambitious enough to make it in Slytherin, brave enough for Gryffindor, curious enough for Ravenclaw or hard-working enough for Hufflepuff then, either way, your mother and I would love you just as much. After all, it nearly put me in Slytherin." Charley's mouth dropped open in amazement that her father, in her view the archetypal White Knight of magic if there had ever been one, was nearly in Slytherin! Harry leant over to whisper into Charley's ear. "If you really know where you want to be, tell the Hat so. It will take your choice into consideration, you know."

"Go on now," Hermione told her daughter, squeezing her shoulders. "Don't keep the Express waiting."

Charley's thoughtful expression suddenly turned into a sunny smile and she tucked a rogue lock of straight brown hair behind her ear. "Okay," she said at last. "Okay, I'll remember that! I love you mum and dad! I'll write to you as often as I can…" There was a pause. "Well, not _that_ often. I mean, writing to you every day would be stupid but…" Hermione and Harry both laughed and hugged the girl again, cutting her off mid-babble.

"Come on, Squirt!" Aurora called out from the train door. Charley looked at the older girl, jogged over to the train and climbed aboard. Once in the door, she waved to her parents again as Ron closed the door.

The children had all found a compartment together and were all waving out of the window as the train began to pull away, Rhea, Selene, Danny and Fred running alongside and still waving to their older siblings. Harry stood with one arm around his wife's shoulders and waving to his son and daughters as they faded into the distance. He now understood why Molly Weasley had always faced 1st September with such ambivalence. Every time his children left him for ten months at Hogwarts, it was a little bereavement.

Hermione looked up at her best friend, her lover and her life partner with a comforting smile. "She'll be okay, Harry," she whispered.

"I know." Subconsciously, Harry had started rubbing his scar. In the last sixteen years, despite innumerable crises, dark wizards and plots to conquer the world, it had never ached as it did during his Hogwarts years. He took it as a sign that all was well. "I'll just miss having them around."

Hermione leaned closer. "I'm sure that I can find something to keep your mind off of your Empty Nest Syndrome," she whispered sensually, making Harry blush brightly, mentally cursing how easily his wife could do that to him. Hermione laughed and blushed too in pleasure at his reaction.

"Yuck, Mum, Dad!" Danny protested. He and the other younger Potter/Weasley/Longbottom children were watching the display with a mixture of disgust and resignation. Ron was pointing and laughing and even the quieter Neville was smirking at his old friends' expressions. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but laugh too.

Yes, this is what defined Harry. His friends, his family and the woman that he loved. He would never be just 'the boy with the scar'.

**The End**


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